Londonstani

Londonstani: as much as this novel shines with attitude,
it dulls with structure and pace.

Author

Gautam Malkani

Genre

Fiction

Publisher

Fourth Estate

Pages

342

RRP

$32.99

This debut novel is set in the London suburb of
Hounslow, a place populated by a rich ethnic mix of Asians (desis)
and whites (goras). The narrator is a 19-year-old, Jas, who is
drawn into a violent gang of teenagers, all of whom have failed
their A-levels. Despite this, they are smart enough to run an
underground business deprogramming and reselling stolen mobile
phones.

Occasionally, in the midst of the linguistic mangle, Jas will
insert a word like "finesse" or "authentic", which reinforces his
place as an outsider or, rather, a latecomer to the teenage Asian
subculture.

This all might seem fairly earnest, but it is not. Jas is an
entertaining narrator who, with wit and originality, creates riffs
on the absurdities of social etiquette and parental manipulation.
He is particularly funny when he improvises, stream of
consciousness-style, on generational and cultural differences. He
is similarly engaging when describing the nuances of tribalism and
urban decay, with images of trees shrinking beneath Bollywood
billboards, gardens concreted over to make double driveways,
satellite dishes dwarfing smokeless chimneys and the stench of
aviation fuel mixed with the aroma of dhal.

Some of the most humorous material comes in the form of a list,
a set of "rude-boy rules" staggered throughout the first third of
the novel that instruct Jas in the subtleties of gang etiquette and
resonate with a quiet wisdom and logic: "Rudeboy Rule #1: My dad
always said that you should never lie cos you'll have to tell
another ten lies to back it up. However, Hardjit's taught me that
if the back-up lies are good enough, then so fuckin' what?"

The great irony is that these so-called tough guys are not
disenfranchised street youth. They come from affluent families and
drive to street fights in their parents' BMWs. As they work hard at
deprogramming the stolen phones, their Indian mothers serve them
chai and samosas. This gang's battle is not necessarily with the
dominant European culture, but the dominant traditional culture of
their families.

Unfortunately, as much as this novel shines with attitude, it
dulls with structure and pace. The plot unravels slowly: Jas begins
secretly dating a Muslim girl, Samira, which is forbidden by his
Sikh and Hindu gang members; the brother of one of the members is
preparing for his traditional Indian wedding, yet barely tolerating
his meddling mother. The gang then become embroiled in a much
larger mobile phone scam that eventually backfires. These three
strands eventually entwine into dire consequences but, at 342
pages, the reader must wait too long for them.

Similarly, major turning points in the story are skipped over
while irrelevant scenes amble on.

The surprise ending and resolution is disappointing, cliched and
trite. Perhaps not as bad as "and then he woke up and realised it
was all a bad dream", but almost.

Still, Londonstani exudes a charming, original energy.
Malkani's publicist has announced that it was the hit of last
year's Frankfurt Book Fair, with worldwide publication, so
obviously the book has its fans.

As a contemporary cultural artefact, Londonstani is
second to none. As a novel, it is overwritten and undercrafted. I
have no doubt it will do very well.